Opposed (Under Construction)

Hayes

I woke at 03:47 to the sound of screaming.

I threw the thin covers off of myself and jumped out of bed. I glanced at my wrist to verify the presence of my ribbon and proceeded to bound down the stairs a few at a time, careful not to trip and fall.

When I reached the bottom, I found my mother kneeling beside my little sister, Naomi, holding her while silent tears stained her small cheeks. I looked at my her, not saying anything because of our restrictions, though I'm sure she read my mind, because she mouthed "Bombs". My eyes grew wide. They had found us.

The Order had found the heart of the Opposers. A few years back, the Bradley section had decided there were too many for all of us to live in the base. Families were sent to find homes to live in, so they could blend in with the general public better. Many of the Opposed were unaware of this shift, and we were left out on our own for a while. Only recently did our contact become frequent and useful.

I threw may arms around the pair. When we broke apart, my mother pleaded a quiet "Be careful, Hayes."

She knew I was going out there. Naomi knew too, because she placed her small hand on my shoulder. I turned away, knowing if I didn't leave soon, I would never let myself. Naomi was the most important thing in my life, as was my mother.

Ever since my father was caught, I had to assume the role of the rock in our family. My mother and I were both Opposers. She joined when she was 17, and has been an active part ever since. My sister was too young, yet she liked to help out in the facilities, with cooking and uniform deliveries. She has 3 more years until she is trained, because they refuse to train children under 10.

I motioned to the door to the basement, urging them to take cover. My mother nodded and uttered "Let's go, hon," to my sister. They cracked the door open and descended into the dark stairwell, the door locked behind them.

I turned around and walked to the front of our small house, my eyes sinking to the the tile flooring beneath me. I could tell the bombs had not been dropped yet, and I knew that as soon as they went I would most likely never see my home again.

I grabbed the cold, brass handle and slowly twisted it, cracking the door open inch by inch. I looked outside, and I could feel the life drain from my face. About 15 miles from us, as far as I could see, were at least 10 airships ready to drop what I doubted were anything pleasant. They weren't just destroying us. They were obliterating us.

I made my way out the door and crouched, creeping through the bushes that lined our house, leading to the back. When I was out of the public eye, I climbed up the rusting ladder to the roof of our house. When I was younger, my dad and I would get sneak out of the house and hide away on the roof. It was our escape from the world. But since his disappearance, I have avoided it at all costs. Sometimes memories can be too painful. I bite back the hesitance to climb up. This is an emergency, for crying out loud.

The view was as plain as ever- mind the giant death machines hovering in the sky. I watched a few other people come out of the house to observe what was going on. Most of them seemed clueless. Go figure.

I watched, as if in slow motion, the first bomb was dropped. As the sky flashed white, I thrust myself off of the roof, landing with a harsh, bone crushing thud! on the dead grass. When I reached the ground, I whirled around and made a sprint for the back door. I tried frantically to open it, but it didn't budge. As if by instinct, my hand felt my side, reaching for my knife. To my dismay, I must have left it somewhere else. Shit! I took a deep breath, knowing I needed to calm down. I stepped back and kicked the handle. The lock broke and I shoved it open. I found Naomi crouched under the counter, eyes closed, rocking back and forth.